Unknown Desires
by LeahBunny
Summary: Harry feels completely new emotions towards a certain brunette when he sees exactly what is inside the locket of Tom Riddle. H/Hr. Rated T, for sexual themes. OneShot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, nor am I receiving any financial benefit from this.

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Harry Potter had prepared for many things in his life before, but never anything as wild as this.

He was smart, loyal, a young man who had gone through a whirlwind of terror, however his past was a mere stepping stone in the journey he was taking now. Everything seemed so irritably miniscule after Dumbledore had fallen, that fateful night. No more guidance, no more Professor to offer endless advice, no more help for Harry. He looked in his shard of glass and saw nothing.

It was time to take responsibility.

Harry confided in, and trusted, his friends, who he was forever bonded to. They were a Trio, a powerful circle of loyalty and Harry questioned briefly, in that short moment if he would still be alive today if they were not right beside him, every step of the way.

As wonderful as his comrades were, and as much as he would have rather died in the place of any one of them, it was natural human instinct to place self preservation above all. After six years of narrowly escaping death, and other Dark forces, Harry developed quick reflexes and a mind full of practical spells that would be useful in combat.

Then, after Dumbledore died, he prepared himself. Physically, mentally, magically, he took necessary precautions, knowing the tasks ahead of him. It was friggin' frightening, he thought, knowing every step he took forward, was being that much closer to killing Voldemort.

However, he had been Sorted a Gryffindor, and even though he was not attending Hogwarts, Harry Potter would truly be part of Godric's house forever. So he was brave, and witty, and above all things, prepared for whatever got thrown at them.

But nothing could have warned him of the insanity that he faced.

Harry lay the locket out on a tree branch, dripping wet and freezing cold, having been rescued out of the icy lake by his red haired friend. Ron had come back for Harry, for whatever the reason, and saved Harry's life right in the nick of time. Not only that, but he had also grabbed the sword, impregnated with basilisk venom, ready to absorb any sort of strength. For this, Harry thought, deserved some sort of commendation, so he had suggested Ron destroy the Horcrux.

Harry stood behind the tree, shivering, but watching Ron with a focus like no other. Ron gripped the ruby-encrusted blade.

"I'm going to open it," Harry had told Ron, "and you stab it, okay?"

Ron looked terrified, and opened his mouth in protest.

After a short but convincing argument (which Ron still did not look all that convinced), he had agreed to be the one to wield the sword, and to defeat the Horcrux.

Harry did not think it a highly difficult task, but then again, he knew what Tom Riddle was capable of. He knew the piece of soul in the locket was evil, was murderous. But all Ron had to do was stab, right away.

The gangly young man held the sword above his head with twitching hands, and Harry spoke in Parseltongue.

"_Open_," he had hissed.

The hiss of Tom Riddle had captivated Ron, paralyzed him where he stood, while Harry kept his concentration.

"Ron, _stab_!" shouted Harry desperately, as he watched his best friend become bewitched with Riddle's statements.

"_I have seen your heart, and it is mine…"_

"…_all that you fear is possible…"_

"_Least loved… mother, preferred a daughter… least loved, by the girl who prefers your friend…"_

And right as Harry bellowed instructions to his pale faced companion, he himself became immersed in the soul residing in the Slytherin locket. Grotesque, opaque versions of Ron's two best friends looking eerily perfect and pale white, exploded out of the locket, and spoke.

Harry could not remember anything the two illusions had said, he couldn't stop to breathe as he witnessed what was happening in the forest. It was unreal, but so very real at the same time. Dreamlike in many ways, he pinched himself on the arm. It stung, and Harry's heart hammered and throbbed at the sight in front of him.

It was himself, so creepily portrayed in the eyes of Riddle, bright and confident, with none other than his female best friend, Hermione Granger. His breath hitched in his throat as the unthinkable happened; the two figures wrapped around each other, their clothes falling from them, coming together in a steamy embrace. Locket-Harry ran his hands up and down the beautiful girl's body, as Locket-Hermione ran her hands roughly through her lover's thick, dark locks.

Both boys were frozen to the spot, each with a different emotion raging in their chests. Ron's, jealousy and anguish, his eyes showing the affection that he felt for the bushy haired girl in the tent, only minutes away from him.

Harry didn't know what he was feeling – confusion, lust, desire? He tried opening his mouth to speak; only his body betrayed his mind. He wanted more, more of him and Hermione. As the vision went on, getting more and more animalistic by the second, _oh Merlin, Hermione_, Harry felt beads of sweat drip from his temples_, I need you right now, all of you, every inch_, his thoughts raced dramatically and all of a sudden –

"RON! STAB! Do it right now!" he bellowed, not knowing what made him break out of his trance.

A clang of metal upon metal, and the air suddenly silent and thick with the only remain of Tom Riddle imposed in the gold necklace, a drawn out scream which made Harry's blood turn cold, and then, nothing.

He sat on the ground, leaves crunching underneath him, panting heavily. His best friend stayed upright, using the tree as balance, eyes bright and wet with tears.

Harry didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say to comfort his companion. He knew the feelings Ron had for her, and he also knew that she was just a friend, a best friend at that. But now, he thought, head swirling uncomfortably, he didn't know what she was after all. Her bushy hair became beautiful, brown curls; her smile seemed to look so much more alluring; and the worst part (_or best?_Harry thought, feeling lost) was her body, all of it. She was a woman, not an awkward teen going through adolescence anymore, and Harry couldn't stand what he was picturing, reliving. Hermione in his arms once again, sighing, moaning his name, _Harry oh Harry_ and Harry growling back in a guttural tone, _oh God Hermione, oh for fuck's sakes, yes just like that, more, I need you, I need you_ -

Harry was shaken out of his deep dream by a sudden noise. Ron had dropped to the ground, to his knees, shaking. Harry crawled over to him, barely breathing, for even the slightest inhale sounded like a thousand in the deep stillness of what just happened. They exchanged glances, eye contact, but Harry couldn't speak. He felt as if all his preparation for this journey, all his experience fighting and learning had just been ripped from him, like a ragged cloth covering from a dead house elf.

Even thinking of house elves made Harry's heart jolt, as his thoughts then turned to Hermione once again. Her determination, her persistence, even when her own two best friends didn't agree with her made Harry want her more. Terribly more.

He clambered to his feet, picked up the destroyed Horcrux and shoved it in his pocket. Harry then held out a hand to the ginger haired man beside him, looking quite like a boy at the moment. He looked up to Harry, and made himself upright. Something in his eyes made Harry want to say something, anything, to not only comfort Ron, but to get rid of the fantasy starting up again in his mind.

"She… she's like a sister to me, I love her like a sister… And I reckon she feels the same," Harry added as an afterthought, not liking the way this pierced him. What the hell? It was supposed to make Harry feel better, not worse.

They exchanged a few more words, probably important, but Harry just could not keep his mind on a straight path. He willed himself to keep alert, keep walking. _Remember Dumbledore, remember the Horcruxes, Sirius Voldemort Hogwarts… _he rambled on to himself, trying to keep a constant flow of reminders.

But as soon as they crossed the magical enchantments, and saw Hermione sleeping next to her bluebell fire, Harry couldn't handle it. His mind raced, painting pictures he didn't want to see.

_Yes Harry, oh H-harry, mhhmm, more, more…_ Hermione's hands, running down his bare chest…

And then three things happened at that exact moment. Ron gave Harry a very peculiar look, Hermione opened her eyes to look straight into Harry's, and the messy haired wizard's heart thumped, and skipped a beat.

His knees buckled, and he went under, embracing the nothingness.

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